the story of a proposal
by WhenLighteningStrikes
Summary: In which Derek holds forth on McDonalds, makes completely innocent sentences sound dirty and tells the waitress to "keep the change". Derek-Casey


**This is so _completely _pointless that explaining it's pointlessness would take more brain cells than it took to write the entire piece.**

**DISCLAIMER: I need to sack my manager now.**

* * *

He can hear them talking upstairs.

"Casey, _please._"

"Edwin, I'm extremely busy today! Why don't you ask Lizzie?"

There's silence as both parties contemplate the ridiculousness of the suggestion.

"Ca-_sey_. It's Michelle! If I don't take her out today, she'll _never _speak to me. Do you _want _your step-brother to remain a poor, lonely, frustrated man all his life?"

He can hear Casey sigh, then "Are you emotionally blackmailing me?"

"Is it working?"

"Yes."

"Great! Thanks Case, you're the _best_."

Derek picked up the box on the table, and taking his leather jacket walked out.

Somehow, he was going to do it today.

* * *

"Are you...you are, aren't you?"

Derek looked up, "I am? What am I exactly?"

"_Derek Venturi!_"

Derek considered the question. In bare essentials it seemed right (and if it wasn't, he was sure that, for the girl who was asking, all the non-Derek Venturis would also have claimed temporary ownership of the name.)

"Right in one. And you are...?" interrupting before she had a chance to answer, "Wait, we're both here in McDonalds, so if you were their product, you'd have been called..." he pretended to think, "McGorgeous."

She simpered and giggled and for a moment it was high school all over again. So obviously the moment had to be ruined (just like his life, since his stepsister-whom-he-doesn't-think-about-at-all entered it.)

They both glanced up at the waitress who'd just snorted. "Page 237, line 15, _'How To Charm Her Socks Off (And Then Move Higher!)_'"

(See what he meant about the universe conspiring? What were the chances of running into a woman who'd read the same pick-up book that he had) "That's an excellent memory, you've got..." He leaned in closer to whisper conspiratorially, "Did the lines work on your girlfriend?"

She glared at him. (Now that was new, mostly girls swooned, they never glared. Except this one girl that he knows, but her never thinks about her.)

The other girl was still looking at him with a dreamy air of idolization. "My brother _worships_ you. He has posters of you all over his room. He'll be thrilled when I tell him I met you!"

"Let's thrill him even more. Breakfast with me." It was an art. Making totally innocent things sound dirty. It required years of hardcore practice and (according to this one person whose name he never mentions if he can help it) he's had more than his fair share.

(She turned red, the waitress turned green. His Christmas was definitely early this year.)

"S…sure." Her blonde hair swung behind her, "I've never met someone like you before."

The waitress turned to her, "I have. But generally you've to pay an admission fee to see people like him."

He decided to be magnanimous for once, and ignore that. He smirked at his "date". "So, how would you like your eggs?"

The waitress said something that sounded suspiciously like _unfertilized_. He ignored her again, (he's an expert at it, long years of practice with this girl whom he doesn't waste many brain cells thinking about) and placed their order.

"Do you come here often?" The woman leaned forward eagerly, her eyes wide, head tilted. A classic case of "_Read The Signs: She's Warm For Your Form." _that he'd read about in a magazine, which his stepsister (the one whom he doesn't think about) had left lying around. The Venturi Charm strikes again!

"Pretty often. I like McDonalds."

"I like it too!" the woman rushed in, eager to please. The waitress was walking away. And he's just suddenly struck by a totally strange feeling, a _now or never_. And _god how _do _people do this_?

"No," he said (why was his throat constricting, breathing was an involuntary process wasn't it?) "You don't understand. I love McDonalds."

The woman looked bewildered and the waitress turned.

"It just…" he closed his eyes for a second, because this was fucking _huge_ and he didn't know how to say it. "I've been in lots of nightclubs. They're dark. Smoky. Mysterious. And it's so _easy_ to get seduced. But you know what I've realized…"

"What?" And funnily enough it's the waitress who spoke. So he looks at her.

"It's not worth it. Behind that entire enigma, there's nothing but emptiness. Behind the sultry smoke, it's all dust and grime. It took me so much time to realize, that wasn't what I wanted."

"So what do you want?" And the waitress sounds bitter, so bitter. He didn't think it was possible for someone who looked so whole, to sound so broken. "_This_?" her gesture encompasses the whole room, "Do you want this _safety_, this predictability, the _ordinariness_? Have you really had your fill of the nightclubs? Will you settle down on these old chairs, after those couches? Won't you tire of playing happy families, and go back to where you belong?"

"This _is_ where I belong." He said quietly, "Always have."

"Tell me," she leaned in, "How many times have you gone to a McDonalds? There's one in every corner. It's always near you, no matter where you are. But you haven't noticed, have you. Because it's just _there_. It's not special. I've seen you in…nightclubs. And you're perfectly happy there. What makes you want to change that."

"In the...other places, it's all about the package. You dress up, and talk softly. You flaunt your money, and use your name to get...reservations. You play parts to perfection, but it's not who you are. Nobody gives a _damn _about that."

He looked around. The families all around him, the little children demanding their balloons, and it was such a fucking fairytale. (And even more fucked-up that he wants it.)

"You know," he said, speculatively, "I want three children. Two girls, one boy. And this is the place where I'll bring them. Again and again. And that makes it special. More than you'll ever know."

(And its all silence, and why the _fuck_ wouldn't somebody say something. He can't handle this.)

"I love McDonalds!" They both turned in surprise to the blonde, (who was she, again?) "It's like…it's like…coming home."

Derek smirked at her. "Let's get out of here."

"You haven't even eaten."

"That's all right. I have a feeling I'll be coming here a lot more. Let me just settle the bill."

He searched in his pockets, "Damn, I must've left my wallet at home."

"It's all right, I'll pay." McGorgeous took out her purse.

"No way will I let my lady pay." He announced, "No gentleman could allow that."

The waitress snorted again.

He searched in his jacket for a long time, and finally came up with a red, velvet box. He tossed it carelessly in the hand of the waitress, who almost missed it. "Keep the change."

*

"You know, I'm glad we're out." The blonde was whispering anxiously, "That girl looked a little," she made a curling motion around her head with a finger, "I swear she had tears in her eyes when you handed her that box thing."

Derek looked up at the big, golden 'M' sign on the door, and almost smiled.

* * *

"De-_rek_!"

"_What_ Spacey."

"What are you _doing_?"

He looked up from the buttons of her shirt, which he'd intently been concentrating on opening. "Is that a trick question?"

"You're _deluded_ if you think you're ever going to touch me again after what happened today."

He made an ideal still-life representation of "thinking". "What happened today?"

"You compared me to a _fast-food chain_ on a date with _someone else_. Told me that the only reason you stand me is because you don't have to dress up or behave nicely. And proposed to me by telling me to _keep the change_. Of all the moronic, insensitive, _jerks_…"

"You missed the important part there, Space Case."

"What? The part where you talked about _nightclubs_?"

"No," he turned her around to face him, she looked up at him, and then lowered her gaze, her face flushing, and victory had _never_ tasted like this. "The part where I said, I love McDonalds."

*

And when he's on top of her, breathing hard, her body sculpted to his, his name ringing in his head like a chant, his ring on her finger, he realizes that his blonde companion of earlier in the day was completely right.

Being in this McDonald, it's like…coming home.

* * *

_Also, thought I'd clarify since it's a warped story. McDonald was obviously Casey and the nightclubs were all the other girls. And the conversation was about how Derek never really noticed Casey because she was just there and all the others girl were his "type"_

**Fin.**


End file.
